


Jamie's Errand

by Lenny9987



Series: Gaps in Canon [4]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Book 1: Outlander, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6412309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Imagine Claire and Jamie: You I'd just love some sweet, funny, Jamie and Claire fluff please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jamie's Errand

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is a prompt from Imagine Claire and Jamie but given it's non-specificity, I opted to use an idea I already had for a piece in my Gaps in Canon series (and since a single fic can't be put into two series here...)

Jamie splashed water on his face and scrubbed the dirt of several days on the road from his hands. He heard Claire groan with satisfaction as she sat on the bed in their new rooms at Leoch. He grinned as he watched her from the corner of his eye. She rocked back and forth, leaning first toward the bed and then toward the floor—he knew she wouldn’t want to dirty the sheets with her travel worn clothes but she was clearly exhausted. He could feel the stiffness creeping into his own tired muscles, seeking to cloud his thoughts but the cold water and a spark of an idea were keeping him on his feet. He wiped the dampness from his face and neck as best he could, hoping to be presentable enough for Colum.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Claire called out to him before yawning as he made his way towards the door of their room.

“In a bit, Sassenach. I’ve a small errand to do, first,” he told her, slipping out. She might rouse herself to clean up first, but he had little doubt she would soon be asleep and hoped she would sleep well—she desperately needed it and he did too though he knew it wouldn’t come until everything was squared away.

Laoghaire popped out at him as he rounded a corner near the stairs. She startled him enough that he had a difficult time stopping and nearly knocked her down the stairs. She caught hold of his arm to steady herself.

“Jamie,” she said breathlessly, recovering from the fright herself.

“Sorry about that lass,” he apologized, already maneuvering her to more sure footing on the landing so he could continue past her. “I didna see ye there.”

“Jamie…” she repeated, glancing down at her hand on his arm as she trailed off.

“Ach,” he muttered, pulling his arm away. “Sorry. I canna stop to talk,” he said quickly. “I must see my uncle on a matter of business and then I’ve a wee errand to run—it’s to be a surprise for Claire,” he added in an excited and conspiratorial air. “She’s resting from the ride so if ye’ve come to see her, ye’d best wait for tomorrow. I hope to make quick work that I might join her—we rode hard the last few days and the thought of being in that warm bed…” He let the possibilities run through his mind momentarily before shaking his head and refocusing his attention—if he thought about Claire lying there alone too long he’d give up the task and head back to her now. “Tell yer grannie she’ll have a full account of the wedding from Claire _tomorrow_  morning.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and continued on his way, navigating the halls and climbing the stairs to Colum’s refuge. He paused outside the door to be sure there was nothing being discussed that he would be ill advised to interrupt, but all he heard was Colum making guttural grunts as he pored over the account book from Ned Gowan and posed questions to Dougal about how the MacKenzie lands and peoples were faring.

Jamie knocked loudly before stepping into the room. He emerged a half hour later with his share of the MacKenzie rents tucked away in his sporran. Collecting his share of the rents had taken longer than he’d anticipated, Colum demanding an accounting of the wedding and marriage from both Jamie and Dougal before taking his time reading through the marriage contract Ned Gowan had drawn up (and which Dougal had conveniently on hand). Once the legality of everything was settled, Colum handed over the money Jamie was entitled to and somberly congratulated his nephew on his nuptials.

He passed the hall that would lead him back to his room and was tempted to save the errand for the next day, to just head back and crawl into bed beside Claire—it would still be a surprise to her if he waited a day.

But he didn’t want to wait a day. If they were going to be at Leoch for the foreseeable future, he’d not start off with putting things like this aside—not when it came to Claire. He shuffled past the hallway and moved towards the armory deep in the castle. Despite the fatigue he felt from their journey, they had arrived at Leoch about mid-day so everyone was still busy about their work. He found Ewen at his workbench in the corner of the armory mending a bit of harness for Old Alec.

Ewen looked up from his work, squinting at Jamie before recognition dawned across his face. As soon as it did, he held the harness aloft.

“Tell me, Jamie, what kind of horses is Old Alec trainin’ at the stables as can do this, eh?” A thick metal ring had been bent into an oblong shape rendering the harness unusable until the ring could be replaced.

Jamie stepped forward and took the harness in hand to examine the bent ring closer, his fingers sliding along the once smooth surface. “Alec must be workin’ wi’ Donas. He’s the only beast wi’ the size and temperament for that. Lucky it was the harness he damaged and no something bigger—or someone,” Jamie remarked handing the harness back.

“Aye. Still I wish it had been a horseshoe he’d thrown. Then it would no be my problem to fix and one of the lads might prove useful for a change—they cannae start wi’ something so fine as this,” he nodded to the harness.

“Speaking of yer fine work,” Jamie said to come round to his errand. “I was wondering if ye had any of yer rings ye’d be willing to let me look over.”

Ewen nodded as a grin spread across his face. “O’course,” he muttered rising from his seat and moving around the bench to crouch by a sack on the floor. “I should ha’ congratulated you on yer marriage when ye came through the door. Word’s spread faster’n a stag outrunnin’ a wolf.” From the sack Ewen produced two items: a bottle and a small wooden box.

Taking the bottle from Ewen, Jamie’s eyebrows rose as he recognized that it was a fine whiskey he held.

“Only a wee dram,” Ewen asserted. “In honor of yer new bride.”

Jamie nodded and held the bottle aloft for a moment. “To Claire,” he said with an enthusiasm he couldn’t hide before taking a swig and passing the bottle back to Ewen.

“To Claire,” the other man repeated, taking a long pull himself. Blinking against the tears his longer draw brought to his eyes, he set the bottle aside and opened the box, holding it out for Jamie to inspect at greater length.

Jamie began sifting through an assortment of rings composed of various precious metals. He took out a plain gold one much like the ring Claire already wore in memory of her first husband. He frowned and put it back—for one thing, he wanted what he gave her to be distinct and for another, he doubted he could afford the gold. His fingers sought the silver rings instead. These tended to be broader banded and the decoration more intricately wrought.

“Ah, those are a lovely choice,” Ewen said as he saw Jamie pull two of a similar style out of the box to gauge the size. Jamie slipped them onto the tips of his fingers, examining how far he could force them and calculating as best he could which part of his finger was as slender as Claire’s.

He was drawn to the one with the thistles blooming in the interlocking braided links. It put him in mind of Claire in a way the others didn’t. The thistles were undeniably Scottish but as plants they fit for Claire with her healing herbs as well… not to mention the nature of thistles with the sharp thorns you had to watch out for, like Claire with her sharp tongue. Yes, it would do nicely.

He put the others back and handed the box to Ewen then rummaged in his sporran for the money and handing it over without attempting to barter though he knew it should be more than enough for a silver ring.

Ewen counted what Jamie gave him and whistled. “It’s too much,” he insisted but Jamie shook his head in silent protest. “Then… If ye’re no in a hurry I can put a wee bit of etching on the inside, eh? Yer name and hers, perhaps.”

Looking at the bare inside of the band, Jamie nodded then frowned. “No… no our names.” It was too simple, too common. He wanted something… more. He went back to digging through his sporran until he wrapped his fingers around the chunk of amber from Hugh Munro, removing it gingerly so the piece of paper that bound it remained intact. “What about this?” he made a move to flatten the crinkled page against his thigh.

“I canna fit much, mind,” Ewen said skeptically, earning himself an eye roll from Jamie.

“Of course, no the whole of it,” Jamie agreed. He looked over the poem trying to settle on a line that would be appropriate. “Ah,” he exclaimed, turning to show Ewen. “That line there. Can ye do that, man?”

Ewen took the page and squinted at it. “What in… What language is that then?”

“It’s Latin. Can ye do it or no?”

“Aye,” Ewen assured him, still frowning at the page. “It’ll take a short while if ye dinna mind waiting.”

As Ewen worked on the ring, Jamie ran through what he might say to Claire when he offered it to her. It had been so good between them in those first days after the wedding but things hadn’t been quite right since Fort William. He hoped the ring would help to settle things once more; he hoped the ring would show her a bit of what she meant to him—there was that he still couldn’t bring himself to tell her aloud but the ring might manage to get them to a place where he could. Above all, he wanted her to like the ring and wear it proudly, showing to all in the castle that she was _his_ now—his _wife_. There wasn’t much he could give to her, but a proper wedding ring he could and _would_ provide.

“There ye are,” Ewen said giving the ring a final polish.

_Da mi basia mille_

“It’s perfect, Ewen. Thank ye.”

Ewen took the ring back and moved to his workbench, grabbing up a bit of stray paper and twine, deftly wrapping the ring up and tying the parcel together before returning it once more.

“Good luck to ye, Jamie,” he said giving the newlywed a firm pat on the shoulder.

Jamie hurried along again, the fatigue returning to his limbs with a vengeance now that his errand was accomplished. He paused on the stairs to yawn. Claire wouldn’t wake for hours yet. He’d slip into the room and hide the parcel with his things before climbing into bed beside her.

Images of Claire’s warm, creamy skin as he ran his hands, his lips, his tongue over it began to crowd his exhausted mind. Sleep first. He wouldn’t be any good to her unless he slept first—but then… boy did he plan to be good to her then.

He eased the door open quietly so as not to rouse her only to discover her pacing the room in her shift, picking trinkets and things up for a moment before setting them down once more. The tension and frustration wafted off of her and caused the hair along his arms to stand up as it did when he sensed a threat.

“Oh,” he remarked cautiously, “you’re awake.”


End file.
